


Chapter I - A mater of blood (Part II)

by Princess_Geek



Series: Unspoken Desires [3]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Modern Era, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24978742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Geek/pseuds/Princess_Geek
Summary: Vincent meets Beatrice
Series: Unspoken Desires [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807399
Kudos: 2





	Chapter I - A mater of blood (Part II)

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to Pixelberry. I only own my OC. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors.

"Briar-Anne, eat all the broccoli if you don't want to get grounded."- Pavarti reprimanded her daughter.

Briar grimaced and swallowed them grudgingly. Beatrice tried to hide her laugh.

Pavarti loved baking them all kinds of sweet things, but in return, they always had to eat all the vegetables. Beatrice didn't like vegetables as much as any other child, but she was making an effort to not displease Briar's mother.

While Pavarti was distracted watching the news attentively, Briar took some broccoli off her plate and put it on her friend's.

"Beatrice, you have to eat everything too." – Pavarti said looking reproachfully at the girl's plate.

At the end of dinner, Pavarti announced:

"Beatrice, your father called me this morning. He comes to your house to meet you tomorrow at the end of the day."

Since her mother had told her about her father, Beatrice had been looking forward to meeting him. However, the weeks have passed and little by little the new life with the Daly's was becoming a comfortable routine. The arrival of her father would disturb that routine and it was scaring her.

"Ohh... Can't it be another day? We have a math test on Thursday. I need to study."- Beatrice excused herself.

"I know you have. I talked to your teacher about it and can take the test on Friday."

"Can I take it on Friday too?" – Briar asked hopefully.

"No."

—- The next day —-

Vincent waited anxiously in the car until the bell rang. Many children came out of the building running excitedly over the thin layer of snow.

He looked carefully trying to identify his daughter among the others. Mrs Daly told him she was wearing a pink snow hat with a matching scarf.

The excitement was coursing through his body so that he could not sit still in the car. His legs were shaking uncontrollably.

Then, there she was, running to the playground. His heart skipped a bit when he recognized her. Vincent couldn't resist getting out of the car to see her more closely. He hid discreetly behind a tree and stayed all the recess watching her playing. Beatrice's cheeks were flushed from the cold and her long hair was bouncing around her winter hat.

She and other children had started a snowball war. Since the snow layer was thin, at the heat of the battle, the balls were mostly made up of mud instead of snow.

At some point, she was hit by a snowball, lost her balance and fell to the ground. When he saw her lying on the floor, Vincent freaked. He wanted to enter the school gate, run to her and get her up.

Before he recovered from the shock, Beatrice stood up, shook the snow off her coat and hair and continued to play carefree.

He smiled relieved.

Beatrice was a little distracted all day, but after the afternoon break, she was unable to pay attention to the lessons. The enthusiasm for meeting her father she had felt in the past few days was becoming a suffocating nervousness with every passing minute. She felt butterflies in her stomach and all over her body. She couldn't sit still in the chair shaking or dangling her legs all the time. Her pencil was all bitten by the end of that afternoon. Miss Taylor even had to reprimand her for not paying attention more than once that afternoon.

When the ringing sounded, Beatrice couldn't feel her legs, so she took a while to get up. Briar, realizing her lethargy, helped her to pack her things up and took her by the hand to the gate where Mrs Daly was already waiting for them.

The journey from school to home seemed like a dream: all the sounds were distant and the images were diffuse.

——Later that day—–

"I warned you to be careful to not get dirty. What do you think your father will say when he sees you all dishevelled?" - Pavarti scolded, but her voice was filled with tenderness, her hands gently trying to straighten her hair - "Sometimes, you can be even more stubborn than Briar."

Pavarti did her best to make Beatrice more presentable before her father arrives: she combed Beatrice's hair in an intricate braid and told her to put on a clean dress.

Then she took her to Mary's house. Pavarti warmed up some water for tea and asked Beatrice to arrange some homemade pastry on plates.

They heard a knock at the door.

"Do you want to open the door, Beatrice?" - Pavarti asked.

She shook her head.

"That's okay." – Pavarti reassured her.

"If he doesn't like me? What if I do something wrong?" – Beatrice asked worried.

"Remember what your mother taught you, my dear: just be yourself and everything will be fine."- Pavarti reminded her – "I'll open the door. Wait for us in the living room."

Pavarti opened the door. Vincent was pacing at the door entrance. He was carrying a package in his hands and drumming his fingers on it.

Pavarti invited him to get inside and led him into the small entrance hall.

"Is that for Beatrice?"

"Yes. It's a baby doll. I should have asked before, if she likes them or not." - Vincent answered insecure.

"Yes, she loves dolls. However, if you allow me the suggestion, you should give it to her at the end of the visit."

"You're probably right."

Pavarti called Briar and told her to put the package in Beatrice's room.

"What's it?" – the girl questioned curiously.

Pavarti glared and Briar disappeared with the package.

During that time, Vincent stopped to look around. The house was modest but decorated with good taste. There were some pictures hanging on the walls. They were very peculiar, almost artistic. In one of the photographs, Mary was sitting in her garden, surrounded by flowers. It was evident that a gentle breeze was blowing at the moment, mixing her hair with the flowers. Although the photo was in black and white, it radiated light...peace...joy.

Vincent took a deep breath. He could swear that Mary's scent still filled the air, although he knew it was probably a trick of his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her walking down that corridor, hearing her laugh, imagining her singing the same sweet melodies she used to sing between their sheets while she was doing chores and taking care of their daughter.

Pavarti woke him up from the trance:

"Shall we?" - she asked with a hand on the doorknob.

He nodded. His body was shaking and his hands were sweating.

Beatrice was sitting on the couch. From Vincent's point of view, she looked like a porcelain doll, sitting very still and straight on the couch, with her perfectly arranged corduroy rose pale dress. When they came in, she got up and walked towards them.

Her big hazel eyes studied him. Vincent knelt down to come face to face with her. If he wasn't feeling her breath, he would think she was a mirage. His little girl. Vincent didn't know that was possible to miss so much someone he had never known before Mrs Daly had come to Edgewater and revealed the existence of a human being who was the crowning glory of their love.

He wanted to hug her tightly, kiss her chubby cheeks and tell her everything was going to be okay, that he was there to love her forever. However, his emotions did not allow him to speak properly.

"Hello." - it was the only he managed to say.

"I will leave you alone." - Pavarti said - "If you need anything, we're in the kitchen."

After Pavarti closed the door, he continued.

"I don't know about you, but I'm pretty nervous." - Vincent confessed.

"Ohh...I'm nervous too." - she said.

"You swear it? You looked so calm sitting on the couch."

They looked at each other a little longer.

"Nice to finally meet, Beatrice. I've been counting the days to see you." - he said, touching her lightly on the head as if to make sure she was real.

"Nice to meet you too, sir." – Beatrice replied, surprised by his gesture.

"Please, don't call me sir. If you don't feel comfortable calling me father yet, at least call me Vincent"

She nodded in understanding. She was so used to the absence of a father that it was almost a mythical figure to her. Although she felt a little different from other children, her mother had always given her so much love that Beatrice had never missed another figure in her life. Now that man was there, giving a face to that figure. Beatrice, at that moment, didn't quite know what to think or what to feel.

"Would you like some tea?" - she inquired.

"I'd love, thank you."

She told him to sit down.

"How many cubes of sugar, sir...Vincent...father...?" - she asked in a nervous voice.

"None, thanks."

Father...his heart melted hearing that word leave her small lips.

She served the tea very elegantly.

"You serve the tea like a true lady" – he complimented.

She blushed and thanked.

"Mama taught me."

Vincent noticed she also didn't put any sugar in her tea.

"Your mother used to mock me for not having sugar in tea."

She did not immediately react to his words. Beatrice took a sip of tea before answering.

"She says...used to say If I was mosquito..."

"...I wouldn't want to bite you because your blood must be sour." - he completed the sentence.

Her mother had always avoided talking about her father. But every now and then she disclosed some details like that. Confirming these details was comforting.

"I like cakes and desserts; however, I don't like the overly sweet ones." - she continued.

"Me neither."

There was a plate full of scones on the table.

"Do you prefer them in Devon or in Cornish way?" *

Since that was a controversial issue, she was afraid to answer. Vincent noticed it.

"You can say it without fears. I'll not judge you for it."

"I prefer Devon's." – she confessed.

"I'm all Cornish. But I'm glad you inherited that from your mother. In fact, it reminds me of the first time we fought...It was about which one was the best...It ended with her crushing a scone on my head." – he remembered smiling.

She giggled imagining the scene.

Both are prepared to take to the same cupcake from the plate. When Vincent realized it, he chose another cake. Beatrice took the cupcake from the plate, divided it in two and placed the most generous half on Vincent's plate. Vincent took another sip of tea to drown his emotion. Mrs Daly was right. She definitely had a kind heart. 

He noted a shelf full of books.

"Do you like reading, Beatrice?"

"Yes! I've two library cards: one from the school library and one from the town village."

"Two? Can you read so many books?" – Vincent asked matching her enthusiasm.

"I read every night before sleeping. Two at the same time." – she declared proudly.

"That's impressive! I'm very fond of reading too. You'll love Edgewater's library. It has more books than you've ever seen in your life."

"Can I apply for a library card too?"

"You don't need it. I was talking about my...our house library."

"Is it like Beauty and the Beast's library?"

"Yes."

"Did you read all of its books?"

"Not yet. Besides, some are written in foreign languages. One of our ancestors spent years travelling around the world and brought books from each country." – Vincent explained - "Another of our ancestors was a writer. She wrote under the alias Clara Mills. She exchanged letters with Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë. Therefore, we have rare editions of their books. You're still a little young to read their books, but you'll love them."

The girl opened her mouth in amazement for a few moments.

"Can I tell you a secret? Do you promise that you're not going to tell anyone?"

Beatrice nodded vigorously because her mouth was full of cake.

"I'm writing a book too." – Vincent told her in a lower tone,

"That's so cool." – she whispered. – "Are you a writer? Like a real one?"

"I'm sorry for disappoint you, but I'm not. I've just been writing since last month. I still don't know if I will be able to finish it or if someone will want to publish it."

"Even so, it's so exciting! What is your story about?" – she questioned.

Vincent took another sip of tea before answering:

"The story takes place during the regency. It's about an opera singer and a nobleman who fall in love. Although she has a more noble heart than most of the ladies, his parents don't like her because of her lower birth...and her job."

Beatrice realized that there were some obvious similarities to reality, yet she ventured to ask:

"Will they have a happy ending?"

"I hope so. It may not be the one they dreamed of initially, but I believe that, in the end, everything will be fine. I must to believe that." - he replied wistfully.

Beatrice was no longer sure if he was talking about the book or about him and her mother. His eyes were sad. She felt an urgent need to erase that sadness from him. So, she had an idea.

"There will be a book fayre at my school next week. Would you like to go? – she invited.

"I'd like very much. So, I can always buy some more books"

He answered offering her a smile. She returned it.

"Talking about school, Mrs Daly told me you're a good student. What are your favourite subjects?

"English and History." - she answered.

"Mine too. I've always been terrible with numbers. Your grandfather was very upset with me because of that"

"Is he still alive?" – she asked.

"No. He died some years ago." – he answered in an emotionless tone. – "On the other hand, your grandmother is looking forward to meeting you. She always wanted to have a granddaughter to pamper."

"Pavarti told me you have more children." – Beatrice continued.

"That's true. You have two brothers: Harry is younger than you about a year and Edmund is twelve."

Vincent noticed her puzzled look.

"Edmund is the son of my wife with her first husband." - he explained - "I'm sure you'll like him as much as I do. He's a very sweet boy."

"There are any more relatives?"

"I'm only child, so, there are only a few uncles and cousins apart. We've some relatives in Cordonia too."

"Do they belong to the royal family? – Beatrice asked excited.

"You can ask your grandmother about that. She will be delighted to tell you all the details about that."

After a few more sips of tea, another question came:

"Wasn't your wife upset with you because of me?"

He would love to say no, yet Vincent didn't want any more lies between them.

"She's not exactly thrilled, but I hope you will adapt to each other soon..."

It was the most honest answer possible.

"...That's why I'd like you to have lunch with us on Sunday." – he invited - "Thereby, you could get to know everyone. You will love Edgewater. The house is huge. We have a garden with more flowers than you can imagine ... a lake big enough for boating...the library... in addition to your brothers, you will meet many other children in the neighbourhood and at school" – Vincent was explaining excited.

Vincent noticed that his enthusiasm was overwhelming the little girl.

"However, you don't have to give me an answer right now. You can think about it and call me later."

"Are you going to send me to a boarding school? I don't want to go to boarding school..." - she asked nervously.

"Boarding school? Where did you get that idea?"

"You talked about school and ... I thought..."

"Of course not. You will continue to study at your school until the end of the year. Next year, you'll attend the town school, like your brother."

Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief.

"Besides, now that I found you, I never want you away from me again" – Vincent added, reaching her hand across the table.

The hours flew by. Vincent didn't want to leave, at least, leave without her. Now that he had met her, the next few days were going to be even more excruciating.

"Can I visit you another day?" – he asked.

"Yes." – she answered with a smile.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?"

She nodded.

He kissed her on the check. Beatrice put her arms up around his neck and clung to him, giving him a tight hug and a kiss.

"Girls' kisses are precious. It's a privilege to get one. Thank you!" – he said beaming – "I'll come back soon."

—-Saturday Morning—-

Beatrice was sitting on the couch with the phone in one hand and Pavarti's agenda in the other, staring at the father's phone number. Parvati had offered to make the call, but she insisted on doing it herself. She counted to three and dialled the number. After the fourth ring signal, a male voice answered:

"Edgewater State, good afternoon. I'm Mr Sawyer, the house's butler. How may I be of help?

"Hello. My name is Beatrice... May I speak with the Earl, please?"

"Miss, I'm afraid the Earl is very busy to answer you. Would you like me to take a message?"

"My father asked me to call him to talk about Sunday lunch..."

"Oh, please, forgive me Miss Foredale. I wasn't aware it was you. It's a pleasure to hear you. Would you mind holding for just a moment? I'll put you in his line."

Those minutes seemed her like hours.

Upstairs, Henrietta was looking for some documents at Vincent's bureau. His phone was ringing insistently. Annoyed by the noise, she decided to take the call.

"Father? It's me, Beatrice..." - a timid voice came from the other side

Ugh...the bastard. Henrietta thought rolling her eyes. It had been impossible to keep Vincent from talking about her since December. Since their first meeting, the conversation had become unbearable: how smart, how kind, how beautiful the bastard was. She would have to put that girl in her place as soon as possible...starting now.

"You're talking with Countess Henrietta, your father's wife." - she emphasized the last words.

"Nice to meet you, my lady. I'd like to speak to my father, please."

"The Earl is too busy to talk with you."

Henrietta could imagine the girl's disappointed face.

"Would you take a message for him, please?

"Yes." - Henrietta sigh.

"Tell him I accept his invitation to lunch on Sunday, please."

"I'll."

"Thank you, Countess. Have a nice day."

Henrietta was the first to hang up. That child's existence irritated all her nerves

"Oh, dear...you're not going anywhere on Sunday." – she whispered for herself.

Notes:

* In Devon, the scones are split in two and topped with cream followed by jam. In Cornwall, the split scones are topped with jam and then cream. While it doesn't necessarily affect the flavor, it's still a controversial issue nowadays.


End file.
